
Class 
Book. 



_ 



Copyright^ . 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



A CHILD OF LOVE 



BY 
CUMORAH SMITH BURNS 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

1911 



T^; 



",*0 






Copyright, 1911 
Sherman, French &° Company 



;CI.A303721 

NO. f 



TO 

MY MOTHER 
MARY CATHERINE SMITH 



Mother — thou hast kindly led me, 

Through my life — ne'er taught to dread thee, 

Thy sweet smile hath yearly soothed me, 

Mother truly, time hath proved thee. 

Thou hast watched from birth the molding 

Of my life — a life unfolding 

From a child to that of woman, 

Oh, how constant thou hast proven! 

Thou hast helped me bear all sorrow, 

From thy heart hath bid me borrow 

All its happiness to brighten, 

Soothe my heart and grief enlighten. 



Mother — can I bear the parting, 

When thy life eternal starting, 

Parts us here and tears asunder 

Hearts that grew as one ? I wonder 

Who could calm me then, dear Mother, 

Who could soothe me, oh, none other ; 

Could I look beyond to thee, dear, 

Hear thy voice — thy presence be near, 

Ever guarding o'er me, keeping 

Grief away and on me heaping 

Joys thy heart would bid be mine, to 

Make the Sun of Hope to shine through? 

Mother, let me love thee daily, 

Whilst thou livest, thou shalt sway me; 

Let me live as thou hast bid me, 

E'en when Death by claim hath hid thee, 

From these eyes that seek thy training, 

Ever from all wrong abstaining. 

Mother, why must Death e'er call thee ! 

Mother, why must death befall thee! 



LIFE'S STATUE 

If sculptors had for models — Life, 

And chiseled day by day, 
Each hour, each year, the joy, the strife, 

And artist's work display, 

What would the statue's face portray? 

And should we find our statue there, 

And gaze into that face, 
Would we regret the lines of care, 

The grief with joy replace? 

Oh, tell me, what would we erase? 



A CHILD OF LOVE 



"My name, my dear madam, is Doctor De Clue, 
My duty (and pleasure) is to inform you, 
That your operation is one day delayed; 
Your doctor, dear madam, wants this news con- 
veyed 
To you, and desires (if I lack not the skill) 
My message to brighten, to cheer and to fill 
Your heart with a courage that grows with its 

beats, 
To-morrow must find you with strength — Life 

competes 
With Death — let me startle you not — no, not I ? 
Then pray laugh again ere I bid you good-by ; 
Let me feel that my message has done much to 

cheer 
Your heart ; that my words to you have quelled 

all fear 
Of this operation you must undergo: 
I thank you — your laugh seems to say to me, 

'No, 
I look for its happ'ning to bring to me health, 
My young life knows naught of its blessings and 

wealth.' " 



« 3 ClrilD of Lotie 

"Oh, were it to-morrow to-day, I'm prepared 
To meet all the pain — e'en though Death stood 

and stared 
At me — I should say, 'Oh, not yet shall I die ! 
This life shall have health — 'twas not born just 

to sigh.' " 
"I bid you good-by, God give strength to you 

my 
Dear madam." 

"Good-by, my dear Doctor, 

good-by." 



II 



This madam (oh, madam sounds too dignified, 
This girl — oh, why girlhood a girl be denied 1) 
Sat motionless long after this interview, 
Her own self she knew not — her heart seemed 

to woo 
Her thoughts. To her cheeks the young blood 

seemed to leap, 
The first rays of love in her soul seemed to peep, 
Her heart's beats came faster, sent o'er her a 

thrill, 
And then her heart's beats for a moment stood 

still. 
This young girl sat dreamily thinking of one 
Who had in her life just a few hours begun. 



3 CfrilD of &otie & 

This love, so deep-rooted, within her heart 

stole, 
Spoke whispers of love that awakened the 

soul. 
If only Dame Reason could take by the hand 
The heart and say to it, "Now do understand 
The folly of loving this one or that, too," 
How well the wise heart it would then act and 

do, 
But Love — how resistless we are to its power! 
We suffer long lifetimes from hour to hour, 
And e'en though we know its true meaning 

means grief,! 
We lack the resistance to foresee relief. 
And a heavenly light came to brighten her eyes, 
And a heavenly blue came to earth from the 

skies, 
And the music of earth breathed a heavenly lay 
That was caught by the strings of that love 

that day; 
And the heavenly chords floated far, far away, 
And caught the vibration of love in their play. 
The music of love draws the heaven to earth, 
When it touches the strings of our hearts, and 

gives birth 
To love that will grow in our souls with our 

breath, 
Till our last breath has left us — when God's 

will is death. 



3 Cfu'ID of Jtotoe 



in 

'Twas soon after Easter and soon after Lent, 
Society hungered for this first event, 
The ball at the club to be given that night, 
By the Misses La Marge and a Mrs. John 

Dwight. 
The madam (a widow about fifty-two, 
Perhaps to say widow of forty would do, 
But nevertheless whether forty or more), 
She had a vast fortune — (I beg not to bore 
You, reader, but this I must tell, 
The madam was aunt to the girls, their Aunt 

Lell). 
Her husband had died leaving all his estate 
To his wife and her nephew and Mary and Kate ; 
Miss Mary was always Miss Mary, you see, 
But Kate spelled her name with an "r — i — n 

— e." 
The women had spent many weeks to prepare 
Their gowns — just what trimming and jewels 

to wear. 
"And what seems to ail you, dear Doctor, to- 
night ? 
Come, join us — Miss Katherine — and see, Mrs. 

Dwight, 
She misses us — come, mingle with all the danc- 
ers, 



a CiniD of Lotie 



Be quick, 'Doc' — the music has started the 

lancers." 
And the music ! and women ! Did ever you see 
A picture of woman more perfect than she? 
There was Katherine and Chadwick — they 

waltzed o'er the floor, 
And Bateman — his partner he seemed to adore, 
And the nephew, La Marge — very much had 

been said 
That night and before, since the news had been 

spread 
That he and Miss Chatalaine Hall were to wed. 
And the dancers — they danced until far in the 

night, 
And the last good-night lingered till dawn's 

early light. 

The pleasure itself is so often surpassed 

By the sweet retrospection of it, when it's 

passed, 
And just so with sorrow — we live every day, 
Our griefs and our sorrows — till they fade, fade 

away. 
The moon sweetly beaming, and this star and 

that, 
Not once saw the doctor as upright he sat 
Beside a raised window. No light was within 
This window to warn you that some one had 

been 



a C61ID of Hotje 



Too restless to sleep, so had taken a chair 
And sat by the window to breathe the fresh air. 
The pale face looked haggard and restless and 

worn, 
His eyes had a stare as if tears had been torn 
From out them — yet not the wild tears that are 

wet, 
But tears that tear more by their dryness. And 

yet 
The stars, one by one, bid the night an adieu, 
And still the dear doctor, more restless he grew : 
"0 beautiful Woman — what will be your fate ! 
To-morrow will tell — until then must we wait. 
O God, couldst Thou take from this earth one 

so fair! 
O God, give the earth this one angel to share!" 



IV 



This dear girl, this madam, awoke with the 

dawn; 
The darkness that covered the night was all 

gone, 
The birds in their nests sang their songs to the 

morn, 
In greeting of Day — with each day that is 

born. 



a etn'lD of Lotoe 



The dew-caressed air from the window slipped 

through 
And fanned the young face as up nearer it 

drew; 
A stillness unbroken reigned over the earth, 
As if it had failed to see morn in its birth. 
By silence, held spellbound, she feared e'en to 

wake, 
Wake wider for fear this queer spell she would 

break, — 
A spell that dulls all sense of all that is real, 
And from the heart's depths — all that's real will 

conceal. 
She lay thus half conscious of all else around, 
She was not disturbed by another, no sound 
Once broke the still quiet — she heard not one 

moan 
To tell her she was not in sickness alone. 
The dawn passed away with the rise of the sun, 
And then in the hall-way, a whistle blew one ; 
A nurse all in white quickly rushed past the 

door, 
And then back again where she had been before. 
This whistle — what could its weird meaning 

have meant! 
A shudder of terror o'er her heart was sent, 
She turned, gave a cough in relief to her fear, 
And just in an instant the kind nurse stood 

near. 



8 a CfniD of Lotoe 

"And how is my dear little patient," she said, 
"This morning? Your cheeks are like roses so 

red, 
You have not a fever, no one would suspect 
That this little patient of mine must subject 
Herself to the skill of a surgeon to save 
Her life — poor child — oh, what health you must 

crave." 
How often Death's clutch weaves about us in 

life,, 
And makes each year's living a struggle and 

strife, 
And just when we're found on the brink of the 

grave, 
There comes one to help us, so mighty and 

brave ; 
Yet Death feels its power so great and so 

strong, 
It laughs at all efforts to make right the wrong, 
But if it is baffled, it lurks off aside, 
And smiles with a vengeance, and Health is de- 
fied 
To linger not longer than Youth shall see fit, 
And Death watches' closely till Youth it sees flit 
By, slowly at first, but the farther it goes, 
The faster, until into Age this Youth grows. 
And Death watches ceaselessly all through 

these years, 
To step back again in this body of fears, 



a e&ilt) of Lone 9 

But though it's defeated in youth's younger 

life, 
It's bound to be victor at last in the strife. 
"I'm well, thank you, nurse, although health 

do I feign, 
My young life has never been without its 

pain, 
I've suffered long years — all through childhood, 

and now 
I feel my heart heavy — a frown knit my brow, 
No, no, nurse, not heavy with fear of to-day, 
I mean to be brave — to be cheerful and say 
To my dear physician and to you, dear nurse, 
'I'm thankful for what is — it might have been 

worse.' " 
The smile from the nurse as she washed the 

sweet face 
And hands of her patient did much to erase 
All fears the young patient might have kept 

withheld 
Within her young heart. If a look had beheld 
Far down in its depths and had seen it to be 
The heart of a woman — what fear did it see. 
With soft gentle strokes, the nurse brushed her 

hair, 
The sun sent its beams to its goldness so rare, 
Its looseness was held by a blue ribbon bow, 
That watched the loose waves of the hair come 

and go. 



io 3 CfrilD of Lotie 

"Oh nurse, ere you leave me, pray how shall I 

know 
Just when comes the hour and the minute to 

go?" 
"Just list for the whistle, and when it blows five, 
Your doctor, dear patient, will just then ar- 
rive; 
But pray do not worry, I'll not leave you long, 
I'll stand right beside you, then naught shall 

go wrong." 
And with a light laugh the dear nurse closed 

the door, 
And left the young girl all alone as before. 
The whistle, she heard whistle one, sometimes 

two, 
Her heart gave great leaps as the time nearer 

drew; 
She took up her diary and tried to record 
The last few days' happ'nings — her thoughts 

she had stored 
Within her — she tried vainly to write them 

down, 
But something resisted — her eyes drooped a 

frown, 
'Twas something recorded down deep in her 

heart, 
'Twas something she could not to diary impart. 
There are thoughts that a heart very often 

possesses, 



a CfrilD of kotie 11 

That remain unobserved in its deepest recesses, 
There are moments when love-thoughts are 

often recorded, 
Far down deep in our hearts where no view is 

afforded. 
She closed the dear book, her companion for 

years, 
To whom she'd confided all joys and all fears, 
The pencil fell listlessly down on the floor, 
And at that same moment the nurse oped the 

door. 
"Your mother and sisters (if I am quite right) 
Desire to be with you — you may now invite 
Your husband in also to see you once more, 
No, no, my dear child — no, not five — it blew 

four." 
The mother gazed earnestly into the face 
Of one she had raised from the cradle, to grace 
Of womanhood — now as if torn from her heart 
Her child — and in tearing left ragged and raw 
The heart of this mother as she gazed and saw 
Her daughter. She never had seemed quite so 

dear 
As when the clock's ticks brought the time close 

and near. 
The husband drew back, just to keep back a 

tear, 
They all spoke of courage, though ladened with 

fear. 



la 3 CiniD of JLotoe 

"I wonder what time it is, nurse, it seems late, 
The time passes slowly to one who must wait, 
For my own amusement you must all contrive." 
Just then in the hall-way, the whistle blew five. 
Each face spoke its thoughts, words were use- 
less to frame, 
A smile o'er the tears of each face sadly came, 
The nurse took the hand of her patient and said, 
"This way dear" — as up the stairs she kindly 

led. 
The nurse stood beside her as she entered in 
This room all in; whiteness where Health was to 

win 
In battle with Death, and she felt oh! so brave, 
And knew the skilled doctors her young life 

would save. 
She lay on a couch, the nurse holding her hand, 
And then came a doctor in white to stand 
Beside her a moment. She watched the white 

cap 
He wore on his head — her soft eyes seemed to 

sap 
More strength from his strength — he then 

placed o'er her face 
A mask of the ether, and soon into space, 
She seemed to be flying, her ears ceased to 

hear 
All sounds from this earth, and sweet sleep, 

soothed her fear. 



a e&ilO of Lotoe 13 



Far off in the distance a low muffled roll 
Of thunder came pealing; the lightning stole 
In, just for an instant as if it had seen 
All earth's secret corners in one second's gleam. 
The rain, it fell gently, serenely and slow, 
Contented to let its rain-drops gently flow, 
The air, wet and gloomy, yet peaceful and mild, 
Reminded one not of a storm fierce and wild. 
The flashes of lightning more vividly came, 
And each flash of lightning made earth more 

aflame, 
The noise of the thunder increased in its might, 
Devoid of its lightning — the day turned to 

night. 
If ever the earth seemed to sob and to cry, 
It spoke its emotion this day in a sigh. 
The mother and sisters and husband remained 
Alone in the waiting-room — silence proclaimed 
The greatness of each one's suspense as in 

thought 
Each one lived in doubt of the news to be 

brought. 
A clock in the corner measured the time, 
Its pendulum swung with a meter and rhyme 
That measured precisely, though slowly it 

swayed 



i4 a efriip ot none 

To this side and that, the time was not delayed. 
As out of the window they mournfully gazed, 
Their hearts for a moment were painfully dazed, 
They saw a large wagon drive up to the door 
And take one away, one in death evermore. 
Just then came a nurse, and to husband she 

said, 
"You're wanted up stairs" — and the way she 

then led, 
And soon he returned, the glad tidings to give 
To mother and sisters — "My wife — she will 

live !" 

VI 

Some few days had passed and each day be- 
stowed gain, 
The nurses did much to alleviate pain, 
The doctor each morning came to her bed-side, 
To learn her condition and to nurse confide 
In medical terms all the causes of this 
Or that. To the patient, this meaning to miss, 
Was cause of much wonder — but less her alarm, 
If she knew no cause for what might do her 

harm. 
The nurse, in and out, throughout all the long 

day, | 
First felt her pulse-beats as a watch open lay 
Upon a small table that stood just beside 



a C&ilO of Lotoe is 

Her bed; then in under her tongue she would 

hide 
A little glass tube that had figures to tell 
The height of her fever and if all were well. 
The nurse served for breakfast a small piece 

of toast, 
And said, "Now have patience and soon you'll 

have roast 
Of beef, mashed potatoes, all else yoU desire, 
But for a few days, of your fare do not tire." 
Each day from a friend came a lovely bouquet, 
Each flower spoke the thoughts of the giver that 

day, 
And sweet is the sentiment sent by the rose; 
Oh, tell me if ever a flower grows, 
That failed to express by its beauty or scent, 
The feeling the giver in sending it lent. 
"And so these are emblems of friends, I presume, 
Two friends, perchance more, to each flower in 

this room." 
"Oh, yes, but my friends do not wither and die 
As these poor dear flowers do — it makes my 

heart sigh 
To see their heads droop in their beauty and 

prime, 
Oh, would all could live — all that is so sub- 
lime !" 
"But sometimes a wish of that kind will come 

true, 



i6 a Cirilo of £otic 

We know God is everywhere, e'en in the dew 
That brightens the roses in earth's early dawn, 
And then in the rain when the dew-drops are 

gone, 
And sometime I'll tell you a story, my dear, 
It's old, very old, but I want you to hear 
This story of love." 

"Love is never so old, 
But that it is sweet whenever it's told." 
"Suppose I should tell you a story that's true, 
And tell you — there once was a woman I knew, 
That I prayed might live — in prayer I gave 

vent, 
And God seemed to pity me — life He lent; 
He left the dear angel to me, in my care, 
With her, my heart's blood, to save her I would 

share, 
Her life is my life, though I never can! claim, 
Oh, would I could give to this woman my name !" 
"But Doctor De Clue, will you tell me the name 
Of this woman fair, and do tell me how came 
This woman to weave herself into your heart, 
To live, as you say, in your life ne'er to part ; 
Of women there're many now under your care, 
Pray, tell me, pray, who is this woman so fair, 
To me do confide, I'll lock up in my heart, 
The secret to me that you may trust to 'part." 
"This woman — she looks through your eyes soft 

and blue, 



a CfrilD of Lotie 17 

This woman — she speaks with your voice sweet 

and true, 
This woman — she hears with your ears when I 

say, 
I love her — love truly, my love will not sway, 
This woman — she smiles when your face sends 

a gleam 
Of sunshine to where the sunshine needs to 

stream, 
This woman — who down in my heart tightly 

grew, 
This woman — O Woman — this woman is you." 
A blush quickly crept to the cheeks of this girl, 
Her hair, in its pity, dropped one golden curl 
To cover her eyes as they drooped low and gazed 
At what, she knew not, her sweet thoughts 

seemed so dazed. 
The doctor with fondness picked up the white 

hand, 
And said to his patient, — "I do understand 
That I have alarmed you, your pulse beats in 

fear 
Like some beating heart of a bird, sweetheart 

dear. 
This morn when I saw you, I could not resist 
To tell you I love you — though now I insist 
That you must me pardon for all I have said." 
He gazed as he spoke on the cheeks flushed and 

red. 



is 3 e&ilti ot SLotie 

His pardon was granted — she looked in his eyes, 
And each looked beyond each one's eyes : — as 

love flies 
From one to the other, no words need be spoke, 
A silence in love is best left — left unbroke. 
And the story of love — whenever it's told, 
Is sweet when it's new — and sweet when it's old. 



VII 

When love first awakes in the soul of a heart, 
And far down within its depths, love's fire 

starts, 
We watch the flames flicker, burn slowly at first, 
And then the fire leap as the flames fiercer burst. 
We try, but in vain, their wild fury to doom, 
We watch the wild flames as the heart they con- 
sume, 
We call, cry for help, but none come to our aid, 
They all stand aside, — awed by fear and afraid. 
The fire runs its course, leaves the heart a red 

coal, 
To burn with its beats far down deep in the soul, 
But though it's a torch, fear no fire will e'er 

start 
To leap up again in the ruins of this heart. 
This love he had whispered made her sadly feel, 
That all of life's happiness was the unreal; 



3 CfrtlD of Lotie 19 

Her wild dreams of love she from childhood had 

framed, 
Were now hung before her; oh! could she have 

claimed 
The picture she saw now beyond her heart's 

grasp, 
Her eyes just to look on, not hers to clasp. 
Her frail body shuddered and quivered within, 
The gate-way to heaven showed Grief was to 

win, 
She felt the gates close against her young sweet 

life, 
That she until death was another man's wife! 

One morn as she lay in a slumber to rest, 
Two snowy-white hands falling o'er her white 

breast, 
A smile o'er her face in her sleep softly crept, 
That lighted her face to a glow as she slept. 
The doctor stole noiselessly to her bed-side, 
He watched the sweet rays o'er her face softly 

glide, 
Enchanted he gazed on the vision so fair, 
And soon her eyes opened, her smile still was 

there. 
"Now, tell, inasmuch as I've watched your sweet 

rest, 
Pray, tell me the dream that brought joy to 

your breast, 



20 a ejniD of none 

Your heart has a right when it's dulled by a 

sleep, 
To live as it would, its heart's pleasure seek." 
"I pray you to list and I'll try to narrate, 
The dream filled with bliss I shall try to relate 
To you, if with patience you'll promise to wait 
Until from beginning to end I state. 
I dreamed I, in search of more health, went 

away, 
Away to the South for a month to stay, 
When lo ! at the same hotel I made my home, 
I met you, dear Doctor, you sought health to 

roam. 
One day in the parlor as I sat to play 
A strain of sweet music, all grief to allay, 
You listened beside me, my heart I unfurled, 
And it seemed to me as if I had the world. 
But dreams are but dreams based upon the un- 
real, 
There's always a heart will another heart steal, 
And bask in the love that is always denied, 
And all its heart's love it will truly confide." 
Oh, sleep, gentle heart, if in slumber you find, 
The joys of your heart that will round your eyes 

bind 
A veil of love's happiness to keep away 
The vision of grief that is with you by day. 
The nurse, with her chart, came to do what she 
could 



a CfrilD of Lotie 21 

To assist the dear doctor; beside him she stood, 
He glanced o'er the paper and said with a 

smile, 
"My patient may sit up to-day for awhile." 



VIII 

A week more passed by and with it brought the 
day 

That brought to a close the brief hospital stay ; 

The nurse helped her dress, and then out in the 
hall 

She sat by a window, reflecting of all 

Within the last month that had taken place ; 

In sad retrospection she gazed into space. 

The doctors in turn came to read the report 

Each chart had recorded, — a nurse would es- 
cort 

Occasionally, if the case were severe, 

And whispers of worry the dear girl would hear. 

The trees were all budding — 'twas May — it 
was spring, 

The sun and the rain did their duty to bring 

The blossoms that lent to the air their per- 
fume, 

And covered the earth in a garden of bloom. 

The rain fell to bathe the green foliage new, 

That was not yet conscious of its relieved dew; 



s& 3 CftilD of ILotie 

The work of the birds was now being delayed 

On nests they were building, on homes to be 
made. 

"And why such a look of depression this morn? 

Can not brighter thoughts from such sunshine 
be born? 

Because it is gloomy and gray all without, 

Is no reason why you should look so devout. 

Ah ! there ! that is better, 'tis best you should 
look 

With smiles, — it is true your dear face is a 
book 

That discloses all, should one closely it scan; 

I find it a pleasure to read what I can." 

"Quite true, but true also, you must not ex- 
pect 

To always find sunshine, if sun will neglect ; 

If sun hides its rays from us e'en for a day, 

There're bound to be shadows o'er our bodies 
play. 

"Supposing the flowers in the garden 
Were the warmth of the sun denied, 

Would they bloom with their beauty and 
fragrance, 
As they would were the rays imbibed? 



a C&ilD of JLotJe 



"Supposing it left them at twilight 
And never returned with a dawn, 

Would there be any life to the roses, 
If the light of the sun were gone? 

"Would they fade on their stems in the 
nighttime, 
Would the dew gather round them and 
pine, 
Would the drops be the tear-drops lament- 
ing 
For the withering roses' : decline? 

"Would the wind rustle through the dead 
petals 
And waft the sweet scent to the skies, 
As the soul of the rose flew to heaven, 
When the wail of the breeze spoke its 
sighs ? 

"And like unto us are the roses, 
And like unto love is the sun, 

And many a heart dies and withers 
Ere scarcely its life has begun. 

"And sad are the tears in this twilight, 
That fall o'er the petals of life ; 

And sad are the breezes that ruffle 
The memories of sorrow and strife. 



34 3 CjrilD of ILotie 

"And sad is the dirge the wind murmurs, 
As o'er the loose leaves the breeze blows ; 

When Nightfall brings death, all that 
lingers 
Is the perfume the sun gave the rose. 



"To-day I must leave you, I must say good-by, 
No longer your patient, the time has drawn 

nigh, 
When one path divides that in life chanced to 

meet, 
Divides off in two as before, and both fleet, 
Each one in its course, that grows wider and 

makes 
No chance of their meeting again when it 

breaks." 
"But no — speak not so — I shall watch your 

dear path, 
E'en though I must follow, be your aftermath; 
I could not see you go to left or to right, 
Unless I, too, followed you, on in your flight. 
Oh, pray, will you grant me the privilege to see 
You once in a while, in your sweet presence be? 
Ah! just to enfold you close unto my breast, 
And there on my bosom your sweet head to rest, 
To drink with my eyes, as in your eyes I look, 
The love that's as endless as some flowing 

brook ! 



To kiss your sweet lips and with that kiss to 

say, 
'I love you, my darling, by night and by day, 
I love you, believe me, your love is my goal, 
Love with all the passion of my heart and 

soul !' 
Ah! just to take you in my arms, child so fair, 
And let my heart beat for you, all your despair, 
All anguish and grief from your heart to re- 
lease, 
Though madam you are — you are my dear 

Chlorice !" 
"Nay, nay, speak not love, lest my heart you 

will kill, 
I feel my heart burst as with love you fill 
Its depths with the love it now always shall 

crave, 
And kill at the same time it shall try to save. 
Though eyes that are mine, I must blind from 

their view 
All visions of love I might see when you woo ; 
My heart must not hear when my ears hear 

you say, 
'I love you, love truly, by night and by day.' " 
"O child, thus to part from me, you can not 

know 
How my poor heart aches, — I can not let you 

go; 
Oh, could I but linger forever by you, 



26 3 eftilD of ILotie 

To gaze in your face and the whole world to 

view! 
To love you makes lighter each day's weary 

tasks, 
The whole world is you, 'tis your love my 

heart asks, 
Oh, tell me, dear woman, that you will not 

part 
From me, now so lonely, since Love waked my 

heart." 
"Oh, why bid my heart to speak what it would 

say, 1 
I can not in words my own feelings portray ; 
Each day, asj it comes, ushers in its day's fate, 
None can see ahead — each one must watch and 

wait. 
Ah! better, far better I never had heard 
Your wild words of love, for the hearing has 

stirred 
My heart to cry out for you. I must deny 
My heart all its love, I must smother its cry. 
Oh, hush — hush — this love, you have fanned 

into flame 
Must fade back to embers again whence it 

came." 
"But why must you smother the love born 

within 
Your heart? — if to love you is sin — then I sin, 
And could not do otherwise, e'en if I would; 



3 CirilD of £otie 27 

Chlorice — love creates all that's great and that's 

good. 
It wipes away evil and makes men of men; 
To tell of its power — no pencil or pen 
Could sketch to reflect it all over again. 
To claim you as mine and to hold to my breast 
My sweetheart — my wife — ah! dear, were I so 

blest, 
The sun could cease shining, I never should miss 
The warmth of its rays, if God granted me this. 
Ah ! let me but nourish one sweet ray of hope, 
Its light ever shining to lead when I grope 
Through life, ever seeking to be by your side, 
And seeking your love, e'en though love be 

denied. 
This light, dear, could guide me to you in my 

dreams, 
Through day and through night it could send 

itsi sweet gleams 
Out far in the darkness, until unto me 
The soft rays would shine and your sweet face 

I'd see. 
To claim you as wife and as mother of mine, 
Oh, God ! — e'en in dreams — oh, such dreams are 

divine !" 
"No, no, I must follow the path Fate gave me, 
Must walk in its boundary, none other must see, 
Though others are strewn from beginning to 

end 



28 3 CfiilD of ILotie 

With the sweetest of roses, not one must they 

lend. 
There are two kinds of sorrow, their source is 

the same, 
They rise in the heart when the heart is aflame ; 
The gate-way to one leads us on to believe 
That love is for everyone — fools alone grieve. 
The other — its gate-way is dismal and lonely, 
And few ever enter it — one by one only. 
And one or the other we each one must choose, 
We ne'er can retrace, though we win or we 

lose; 
And oh! what compares to the sorrow of sin! 
In virtue there's recompense, suffer to win: 
To conquer ourselves is the greatest of all 
The conquests before us — to lose is to fall." 
"Sweet angel from heaven — I suffer to part 
From what I desire most of all ; my poor heart 
Must relinquish all hope — I shall crush at your 

will, 
All feelings I hold in my heart — I must kill. 
But let me this chain clasp around your white 

throat, 
Let this golden heart to you, my own heart 

quote, 
And say to you always — 'I love you — love 

you, 
And on until death I shall ever be true.' " 
"This gift I will cherish — I'll list to its voice, 



3 Ciriia of £otie 29 

And when its heart speaks, then my heart will 

rej oice ; 
My heart need not speak, it can just list and 

hear 
The love in my heart as it rests close and near." 
"God bless you forever, and help me to care 
For my sweetheart darling, and help me to bear 
The grief of this parting — in duty find peace, 
And now I must say to you — 'Good-by, Chlo- 

rice.' " 



If we were born blind, not accustomed to light, 
Our hearts would find joys in the darkness of 

night ; 
If we were born deaf, not accustomed to sound, 
The sweet notes of nature, the harmony found 
Throughout the whole universe, oh, tell me this, 
If we were born deaf, then what would our 

hearts miss? 
The blessings of life, to recount them are many, 
Oh, what are the blessings withheld, are there 

any? 
If any there are, let their sweetness be blown 
Beyond us — the blessings denied us ne'er known. 
Oh, tell me, was ever a perfume so sweet 
That failed to entice — by its fumes meet defeat ? 



30 3 ctriia of iiotic 

Or sounds from a sweet-stringed instrument 
play 

That failed to enchant by its mystic lay? 

The grass, in the spring, though we cover with 
sod, 

Will burst forth anew to its sunshine, its God; 

The rain falls to earth to be drawn back again 

To heaven, to fall back to earth once again; 

And the valley of earth in its rich garb of 
bloom 

Is nourished by rain that the sun's rays con- 
sume. 

Did ever God turn from the wild-rose or 1 clover 

Or dandelion, sunflower, the whole wide world 
over, 

To nourish more fully the lilies or roses 

That stand more majestic than these sweet wild 
posies ? 

Were seeds ever scattered in earth's fertile 
soil 

To listlessly linger in sod to despoil? 

Or, crushed in their bursting, denied their ex- 
istence, 

Did ever a seed from its God meet resistance? 

Then, why should we quell all our feelings of 
love ? 

We are what we are from our God up above, 

Or below — or beside — wherever God is, 

Our feelings are God's — our beings are His. 

Then, why we resist — do we think that man, 



This subject of God's, can do more than He 

can? 
We love, and we must — to love is God's will, 
God granted us love — then our mission fulfill. 

The next few years brought about many vast 

changes, 
Chlorice went abroad, from the West's moun- 
tain ranges,| 
To study her music — to give her whole thought 
To art — to become world renowned — thus she 

sought 
Diversion from sorrow — thus sought to fill 
The emptiness felt in her bosom, and kill 
The feelings she cherished, yet dared not let 

bloom, 
For fear they in blooming, her soul would con- 
sume. 
She studied most earnestly, year after year, 
With masters of Europe. To see and to hear 
Her play was like poetry, to eye and to ear. 

One late afternoon came a note in which read, 
"Chlorice, I am ill, I can not leave my bed; 
My place at the concert to-night you must fill." 
Her heart, as she read, for the moment stood 

still. 
"My carriage will call for you promptly at 

eight, 
Enclosed is a program — the numbers to state." 



a CfiilD of JLotoe 



She trembled bewildered, she walked to and fro, 
She read — then reread — as the sun setting low 
Reminded her time was fast flitting away, 
And Time never lengthens the night or the day. 
How often the goal of our life is attained 
Unnoticed by us, the headway we've gained 
By struggles untiring is often concealed 
From us, till the fruit of our work is revealed, 
As streams from the mountains flow down to the 

creek 
To rush madly on to the ocean they seek; 
And then — oh, I wonder what wild ecstasy 
Is felt at the meeting when streams meet the 

sea; 
Or do they so blend when the waters unite 
That each fails to realize the great ocean's 

might ? 
As air fails to outline the sweet flower's per- 
fume, 
So seas fail to outline the streams they con- 
sume. 

The concert, when women that night as- 
sembled, 
Bejeweled and gorgeously gowned, resembled 
The sparkling stars on a midsummer's night, 
The great admiration of all to invite. 
Each woman was crowned with a halo of hair 
That glistened from under the light's brilliant 
glare, 



a C&ilD of lotie 33 

Each gesture, each movement, sent forth a per- 
fume 
As odors arise from a flower-bed in bloom. 
Refinement and culture is often detected 
By perfumes that waft at their will unprotected, 
By baby-kept women whose every breath stirs, 
Enchants while it speaks of the elegance theirs. 
The audience sat in a dreamy composure, 
Like dawn softly breaking the bright day's dis- 
closure ; 
Each one knew that "Madame Chlorice" was 

to play, 
The papers had published the program that 

day. 
Reporters and critics and masters attended 
To censure or praise, as the case recommended : 
And the curtain crept peacefully up to reveal 
The stage with its large Steinway Grand. One 

could feel 
A sweet touch of harmony in its portrayal 
Of beauty and art, hand in hand. Who denies 
That beauty appeals to the heart through the 



eyes 



Our ears absorb pleasure when list'ning to 

art, 
But oh ! how it multiplies down in our heart, 
When imprints are taken of sound by our ears, 
Increased tenfold more as the vision appears. 
Did ever you watch for the outlines of grief 
Revealing one's soul? As the pencil-writ leaf 



34 3 C&ilD of &otie 

Reveals to the reader the heart's silent crying', 
The grief-written face speaks its heart without 

trying. 
And oh, how it strengthens ! how strangely mag- 
netic 
The influence felt in a manner pathetic, 
Arousing the good in our hearts sympathetic. 
Chlorice was a woman by now — all these years 
Had added new charm to her manner by tears ; 
She graciously bowed, and then taking her seat 
She sat, and the vision itself seemed complete, 
But oh! when the sweet strains of music were 

heard, 
Each strain found response in the hearts it had 

stirred, 
As if it had sought to uncover some aching 
Withheld in their hearts, till their hearts were 

nigh breaking. 
Her eyes had a dreamy, a lulling expression, 
Disclosing a feeling of heartfelt depression, 
As if in her heart lay the script she were play- 
ing, 
Revealed through her eyes to her hands — soul 

displaying. 
Each number she played held her listeners in 

thrall, 
Their moods changed with hers — she seemed to 
install 



3 CirilO oC Lone 35 

Throughout the vast audience, a circuit of feel- 
ing, 

Uniting as one as their hearts felt it stealing. 

And when she had finished, a strangely weird 
spell 

Still lingered long after the curtain fell. 

Oh, tell me, does; fame ever crush the wild flame 

Of love? — are our hearts ever after the same? 

And Madam Chlorice idly dreamed her dreams, 

And the moon softly sent through her window 
its beams, 

Revealing the heart clasped around her white 
throat, 

And these are the words that it heard its heart 
quote, 

As she dreamed — idly dreamed — "I love you — 
love you, 

And on until death, I shall ever be true." 



The world, the world over, is made up of sec- 
tions, 

And circumstance casts us, it dictates direc- 
tions ; 

The rich build a wall with their gold — they must 
be 



36 3 ejrilti of Hotie 

Exclusive, 'tis circumstance, not courtesy, 
That carries them on through the river of life, 
Regardless of merit, regardless of strife. 
The men, the most learned, care little for 1 store, 
They seek and they delve and they wish to learn 

more, 
They hunger for knowledge, they care less for 

station, 
For station is gauged by our social relation. 
Perhaps in this section, we might class the art- 
ist, 
The sculptor, musician, the flutist, the harpist, 
Pianist or singer — a talent developed 
Lends worldly environment to all enveloped. 
Its spell will extend to all stations, its gates 
Ope wide to uplift, where its spell penetrates. 
The section of indolent — without any aim, 
They live — they exist — what is theirs to ac- 
claim ? 
They die without leaving a worldly inscription, 
There is nothing to offer the world as descrip- 
tion. 
They spring from the dust, and to dust they 

decay, 
What memory is left of them? — all — passed 

away. 
The section of circumstance — many expire 
Whose temperaments cry for environments 
higher ; 



3 CjrilD of Lotie 37 

They struggle resistlessly on to attain 

Their goal, but conditions will hinder their 

gain. 
If gold could be used to uplift all deserving, 
To rightfully place them in sections, thus serv- 
ing 
To make more harmonious its system — oh, 

then, 
The rich would not be the most worshiped of 

men. 
A vine, growing close to a tree, sweetly clung 
Around it — the vine and the tree both were 

young, 
And each grew and grew — the vine clinging 

tighter 
Each day, till the vine almost burst. But 

brighter 
And brighter the rays of the sun seemed to 

shine 
To nourish them both — the tree and the vine. 
At last the tree yielded, absorbing and 

hiding 
The vine in its bark — in its heart thus abiding. 
But its vines sweetly bloomed o'er the branches 

at will 
Throughout the long summer. Its odor would 

fill 
The air with its scent ; enveloped — yet free, 
The sweet honeysuckle enclosed in a tree. 



38 a CfitlD of JLotie 

The long dreary winter had passed and made 
way 

For spring. And the valley ! oh such a display 

Of bloom! Do you wonder that birds sang so 
sweetly 

The while they were building their nests, so 
completely 

Obscuring from view in the leaf-laden tree, 

Their homes. And the cackling hen and the 
bee 

That buzzed here and there seemed to say, 
"Spring is here, 

Build homes for your loved ones, 'tis spring of 
the year!" 

The valley was fenced by a huge wall of moun- 
tains, 

Their snow-laden peaks to the valley were foun- 
tains 

That flowed to the creeks in the canyons to be 

Consumed by the river that led to the sea. 

'Twas spring of the year — all the parties and 
teas, 

Society dinners were now memories 

And bygones — for now everything must begin 

Anew — for 'twas spring! — women's hats were 
akin ' 

To gardens of roses — all thoughts were now 
turned 

To Nature. Did ever you open your eyes 



a CfrilD of *Lotie 39 

And watch Nature's coloring* of earth and of 

skies ? 
A trip to some canyon to stay for the day, 
And cook on a rock pile, and through the brush 

stray , 

To chop down the driest for fuel — then to find 
A place to serve breakfast. Spring trips of 

this kind 
Were planned. To| the country, away from 

the world, 
To live next to Nature, in beauties unfurled, 
To breathe the fresh air so invigorating, 
To list to the robin and meadowlark sing. 
O Spring! just to feel your warm breath, we 

assume 
New life like the trees yearly bursting to bloom ! 
The Chadwicks had built them a home near the 

creek, 
In one of these canyons, and never a week 
Would pass from the starting of summer till 

fall, 
Without it was filled with the family, or all 
The friends of the family — it never remained 
Unoccupied. Once for a week they invited 
As guests a few friends. Everyone was de- 
lighted 
To go. Oh! such pleasure to linger and rest 
Midst mountains and shrubbery ! The Chad- 
wicks possessed 



40 a CfcilH of Hone 

Vast acres of land which were fenced in and 
hidden 

From others, all trespassers strictly forbidden. 

Their house stood on stilts to protect it each 
year 

From floods. Oh, how soothing and lulling to 
hear 

The stream as it passed, never ceasing its song 

Since first it began its sweet lullaby long! 

The bed-rooms consisted of five, each containing 

A bed, sometimes two, built secure; space re- 
maining 

Was furnished with tables and chairs, roughly 
made 

Of boxes. On walls there were pictures dis- 
played 

From some magazine ; then the rafters o'erhead 

Were used to hang clothing — perhaps o'er some 
bed 

A gun in its case lent a crude decoration, 

Awaiting to go for a hunt's recreation. 

The landing which led from the stairs from be- 
low 

Wasi used for a store-room for trunks — there a 
row 

Of shelves built for bedding was stationed. At 
night 

An old-fashioned lantern was used to give light. 



3 e&ilD of Lotie 4i 

Down stairs was the dining-room, — off in a 

corner 
Was built a board couch ; some artistic adorner 
Had finished the work left to him by just adding 
A cover — excelsior furnished a padding. 
Here numerous pillows lent comfort and ease 
For loungers who lounged at their will. A cool 

breeze 
Gained entrance from wide-open windows and 

doors, 
And danced unpolluted o'er uncovered floors. 
A table extended the length of the room, 
Surrounded by benches — a cupboard, a broom, 
A rough cobble grate and a chair, here and 

there, 
Completed this room. Then the kitchen, — a 

chair, 
A table, a range and a sink — well in fact, 
There was nothing for comfort and ease that it 

lacked ; 
A porch at the back leading down to the stream, 
To camp-chairs and hammocks where some little 

beam 
Of sunshine peeped through where the willows 

permitted, 
And playfully teased where its gleams were ad- 
mitted. 
Would ever a desert be barren if we 



4a a CinlD of ILotie 

Could gaze on its waste and some real dear 

friend see? 
Far better a desert with dear friends around, 
Than be in a garden, if friends were not found. 
And oh ! such a party of friends ! Mrs. Dwight 
Seemed mother to all: many homes were made 

bright 
By her, — yet her name was withheld. She 

would give 
The needy — in giving that others might live. 
To recount all the blessings that money bestows, 
If placed in a loom woven there as it grows, 
Would burst in our hearts a desire to relieve, 
As we watched the good deeds held with gold, in 

the weave. 

'Twas June — as they all sat around the camp 
fire, 

Each one was to tell of his greatest desire; 

Beginning with Katherine, she said: "Let me 
keep 

The blessings I have — let me profit and reap 

The good from their harvest — I ask for no 
more." 

"My wife has expressed my own feelings, there- 
fore 

As hostess and host, our desires are the same," 

Said Chadwick — as gently he kissed her. The 
flame 



3 Clu'lD of Lotie ^3 

Was losing its warmth and its brilliancy, too, 
For need of more fuel — "Wait one moment, De 

Clue, 
This wood is much drier — there, now — speak in 

turn, 
La Miarge, it is you — while we watch the fire 

burn." 
"Desire often leads us to regions unknown, 
Except to ourselves, like the seed that has blown 
Away from the flower that withered and died 
To give it existence. How often we've tried 
To smother desire that found birth in our 

hearts, 
But found it quite useless ; whenever it starts, 
It patiently lingers — awaiting a chance 
To mix with the soil." With a smile and a 

glance 
At Chatalaine Hall, now his own dear wife, 
He moved and sat down just beside her, "My 

life!" 
He whispered, and for a few moments in 

thought, 
They all seemed to drift — watching flames. 

" 'Tis my lot, 
My turn now! I believe — to try to express 
My greatest desire — I'm confused, I confess ; 
Had I spoken at first, it might have been this, 
'A bachelor's den would contain Bateman's 

bliss, 



44 a CftfID of Lotie 

An old-fashioned pipe and a loose smoking- 

j acket, 
With no one around to create a fierce racket ;' 
But now I can picture what's better — a wife, 
In place of that pipe and my bachelor life." 
"You're right," shouted Chadwick, "no joy is 

complete 
Without a sweet helpmate ;" then moving the 

seat 
Away from the fire, each one sat down again, 
To learn more about the young bachelor's den. 
"I fear you might ridicule, if I should state, 
That often desires come to one, when cruel 

Fate i 

Prevents their attainment. My last trip 

abroad, 
I listened to music ; an angel of God, 
I believed her to be, so divinely she played. 
She lifted the veil from my soul, and I prayed 
For one long eternity, hearing such song! 
But, oh, such eternities never are long. 
Since then I have cherished a higher ideal, 
Have hungered for something that song made 

me feel. 
But, pardon me, friends — let me add to the fire 
Some brush, while we list to the next one's de- 
sire." 
"Now what could one wish for," said Mrs. De 

Clue, 



Who sat next to Bateman — "What else could 
one do, 

But wish to behold this fair creature — reveal- 
ing 

A glimpse into heaven, to waken one's feeling — - 

My greatest desire, just at present, is this. 

But may we not ask you the name of this Miss ? 

'Twill help to subdue this desire you have 
stirred, 

By knowing the name of this artist you heard." 

" 'Twas 'Madame Chlorice' — she is billed to ap- 
pear 

The last day of June — the time is quite near; 

The event will exceed every anticipation. 

The pleasure is mine, if my solicitation 

Prevails, and we go in a party. Allow 

Me first to invite everyone — so now 

I await you to say, 'We will all go to hear 

This "Madame Chlorice." ' " 

"Frank Bateman ! I fear 

Your bachelor heart has been pierced through 
and through 

By one who is 'Madam,' " said Mrs. De Clue. 

"Now, Mary," said Katherine, "don't judge too 
severely, 

You know that a bachelor's heart is pierced 
yearly, 

So what need it matter, though 'Madam' or 
'Miss,' 



46 3 CMP of ILotie 

Each dart with its sting must administer bliss : 
However, we thank you, and all hope to go." 
They all moved away from the fire burning low, 
And went to the house near the creek to retire, 
Without hearing everyone's greatest desire. 
But a fire that had smoldered for years had 

been stirred, 
And many a sigh in that heart the night heard. 
"Ah! what is the use of it all?" was his sigh; 
"I cry for you, only to hear back my cry ; 
I watch for you only to watch on in vain ; 
'Tis maddening! — my soul and my heart, glad- 
ness feign. 
To look! just to gaze upon what I desire! 
To hear! — just to list — oh! my soul is afire! 
I know this, that somewhere in this mighty 

world, 
That song by some singer is being unfurled ; 
'Tis caught by my heart in its innermost feel- 
ing, 
And held in its depths — its vibrations appealing 
For love — yet I hopelessly try to resist, 
Crying the while for these waves to desist," 
As strings of a lyre when in motion start 
The strings that the waves of vibration impart, 
So hearts seek their harmony from one another, 
And nothing can silence the heart-wave or 

smother 
The beautiful, heavenly, mystic lay, 
That sings from one heart to the other's play. 



a C&ilD of Jtotoe w 



XI 

Did ever you gaze far away into space, 
And ever before you see one fleeting face; 
Gaze down in the depths of a sweet-blooming 

flower, 
And find something missing that charms by its 

power? 
Did ever the perfume that scented the air, 
From some fragrant blossom, with its beauty 

rare, 
Leave wanting in something this craving to 

calm, 
This longing be unappeased — e'en by a psalm? 
Did ever, when gazing at some lofty peak, 
Or while through some canyon, your restless 

heart seek 
A something from something to make more 

complete, 
This something that's wanting in every heart's 

beat? 
Did ever the wind of your loneliness wail? — 
Did ever the sun try to cheer you and fail? — 
To shine when its sunshine brings roses to 

bloom, 
And e'en then its brightness be shadowed by 

gloom ? 
Oh ! what do we miss, that is wanting in all, 



48 a Ci)iin oC Hotie 

It's love — naught but love can this beauty in- 
stall ; 
It's love that makes clover as rich as the 

rose, 
And gives to the earth all their beauty bestows. 
A home is a home if a heart therein dwells, 
The story of love, its walls hear as one tells 
One's love for the other, each day to repeat 
This story that never seems quite complete. 
The flowers woo — if this love exists, 
All nature coos — there is nothing resists, 
The eyes see this love e'en in sadness and grief, 
And cling to this love, for in it there's relief; 
But what of the home where the heart is alone, 
Alone — yet surrounded by many — grief grown 
Within it — how hard we find it to deceive 
Our hearts — though in trying we try to relieve. 
We laugh — we assume — hide our tears with a 

smile, 
E'en though our hearts burst and are breaking 

the while ; 
We watch our lives pass swiftly slipping away, 
It makes us cherish them more day by day. 
As days grow to months and the months grow 

to years, 
We see our lives wasting in sorrow and tears ; 
We look for a future to bring to us hope, 
Our hearts, for their love, we see them wildly 
grope, 



3 CfrilD of Lotie 49 

We watch for the love that responds with a 

thrill, 
But still this same love we must kill, slowly kill. 
Though joys upon joys are bestowed without 

measure, 
There's something within seems bereft of the 

pleasure ; 
We laugh — and the echo resounds back a sigh- 
ing 
Of something that laughs — at the same time is 

dying. 
Each day brings an outline of destiny ours, 
Each year brings the grass and the fruit and 

the flowers, 
And some Unknown Power, so mighty and 

great, 
Guards over us all in our earthly state. 
There is something instills in our bosoms their 

longing, 
There is something that makes us resent our 

heart's wronging, 
There is something within us that answers the 

call 
Of something that's calling — oh, what is it all? 
Did ever a rose from the hollyhock grow? 
No, no, our Creator did not will it so, 
And oh ! when wej yield to this calling, oh, then, 
No outline shall sever the heaven from men! 
The height of the rose-bud is never known, 



50 a CirilD of Lotoe 

Until it unfolds to the rose full-blown; 
The sunflower's heaven is never gained, 
Until its first glimpse of the sun is attained. 
Was ever a flower denied its unfolding? 
Was ever it crushed from its heaven beholding? 
But buds never burst to their height in a day, 
Or roots never fasten to earth's fertile clay 
To gain, as they spread, yearly strengthening 

their clutch, 
Protection the while, from some harmful touch ; 
But slowly and slowly the pendulum swings, 
That measures the progress of Time to all 

things, 
And the strength of the roots are never revealed 
To us — under ground they are ever concealed. 

'Twas August. Away from the city's great 

heat, 
Surrounded and hidden by trees, in retreat 
From noise and commotion, the summer house 

stood, 
Of Doctor and Mrs. De Clue, called Kenwood. 
Secluded from others, its beautiful grounds 
Were parks in themselves, and the doctor's 

greyhounds 
Seemed part of the beauty, and Sam, who had 

been 
With Doctor De Clue since young manhood, 

was seen 



3 CirilD of Lone 5i 

To care for the lawn and the hedge and the 

flowers ; 
His touch was like magic — numerous bowers 
Were found by the searching, that otherwise 

slipped 
The eyes of observers. He constantly clipped 
The hedge that surrounded the gardens, ob- 
scuring 
From all passers-by any view, thus securing 
Exclusiveness. Sam alone knew every nook 
And corner; a guest with an interesting book 
Was found very often by him, seeking rest, 
Absorbed, undisturbed, in a rose-garden nest. 
Aunt Manda was equally proud of the care 
She gave to the house ; her contributed share 
Was just as essential to beauty. To tend 
The airy-like rooms so their grandeur might 

blend 
With flower-beds outside. There was always 

a guest 
Of Doctor and Mrs. De Clue's seeking rest, 
And Manda was always most willing to cater 
To everyone's whim, providing not later 
Than nine in the evening, for then she retired, 
And nothing could bribe her to stay. She de- 
sired 
A uniform way to perform every task, 
And method to her was her all, and to ask 
A change in the routine of daily affairs, 



a e&ilD of JLotJe 



The sweeping and dusting of winding-stairs, 
The washing and ironing and mending and 

baking 
And scouring and scrubbing and daily bed- 
making, 
Meant more to Aunt Manda than all the en- 
joyment 
That could have been given her past this em- 
ployment. 
Her room in the attic, though hard polished 

wood, 
Was covered from corner to corner with good, 
Fine old-fashioned carpet, she sewed from old 

rags, 
And then had it woven in stripes — here old 

Tags 
Curled up in the corner to sleep every night 
And purred there incessantly till the bright 

light 
Was turned down quite low, for Aunt Manda 

was lost 
Without a small lamp in her room, for the cost 
Of light she considered extravagant — burning, 
When one tiny lamp did as well. All learning 
Derived from perusal of books after dark, 
To her was mere wasting of means. 

The park 
Looked brighter that year than ever before 



3 Cfjlltl PC LOtie 53 

To Doctor De Clue. Were there blossoms 

more 
That year that crept heavenward — or did his 

heart 
Soar higher than all? Did the violets impart 
To him this awakening — what thing met his 

gaze, 
That passed on unnoticed by him, bygone days. 
'Twas he alone knew why the earthly array 
Seemed brighter, and wrought from his breast 

the long day, 
From out the remotest recesses ideals 
That flowed on incessantly. 'Tis love reveals 
The light of the world to us all, or conceals 
From us, if denied us, the mightiest gift 
Of life, to make all things to heaven uplift. 

In a sunny east room with its walls tinted 

blue, 
With airy-like windows, where sunlight slipped 

through, 
And soft, dainty draperies that soothingly lent 
Intrusion at will of the rose-wafted scent, 
Lay Madam Chlorice. She had been very ill 
Of nervous prostration ; in fact, not until 
Her recent removal to Kenwood had she 
Shown signs of improvement. Quite necessary 
Was absolute quiet, nowhere to be found 



54 3 Ci)flD of Hotie 

Except at some far distant home, far from 

sound, 
From daily routine of the city's great throng, 
Where clatter and noise is the busy world's 

song. 
For days she had lingered 'twixt life and death, 
In state of exhaustion ; her fevered breath 
Bespoke her condition quite grave. She alone 
Was wholly unconscious of kindnesses shown. 
The days of her illness were plucked from her 

mind, 
Condensed to one night — and waking to find 
The morn's early sun just beginning to rise 
To waken the earth to its worshipful cries, 
As with the first breaking of night to the dawn, 
A mist seemed toj linger till night was all gone ; 
She heard voices round her, but failed to dis- 

distinguish 
Their meaning, till Nighttime saw fit to relin- 
quish 
Its throne; then a veil o'er her eyes seemed to 

creep 
To hide the first glimpse of the sun's brilliant 

peep, 
That makes all things black when our eyes look 

away; 
E'en when our eyes close, the reflection will 

stay. 



a CftflE of Lotie 55 

And when she recovered her consciousness, 

then — 
She thought she had lapsed to her sleeping 

again, 
And dreamed she had entered a fairyland den, 
Midst strangers by name, yet not strangers by 

deeds ; 
They all were good angels relieving her needs. 
All strangers but one, and the power of his 

gaze 
Waked Love from its slumber to dance in its 

rays; 
Blindfolded her eyes with her eyelids and then, 
Though blindfolded, see the reflection again 
Rise out from her soul like a fountain that 

springs 
From mountains and flows on for ages and 

sings, 
Its waters exhaustlessly flowing the while, 
Since first it burst forth from its source ; and 

his smile 
Was wine that had crept to her veins, madly 

rushing 
To leap to her lips, to her cheek it was blush- 
ing; 
And swifter and swifter it wended its way, 
Leaping from here and from there in its play, 
And madly coursing till wine-drops burned, 



56 3 CirilD of Hotie 

To be in her lips when the smile she returned. 
"Now, Manda, take care of Chlorice, when I 

go. 
For Mary and Katherine and I wish it so," 
Said Mrs. John D wight, as they stepped in a 

cab 
That Sam had in readiness. Brixon and Tab 
Shone brighter than ever that morning, and 

pranced, 
Awaiting the signal from Sam as they danced, 
To carry their passengers down to the station. 
All three journeyed West on their yearly vaca- 
tion. 
The gate at the entrance clicked back as they 

left, 
And loneliness reigned for a moment. Bereft 
Of Sam and the horses, Aunt Manda was 

lonely, 
And Tags seemed to be her sole comfort, if 

only 
She mewed for admittance and leaped to a 

chair, 
Her presence meant much as she calmly sat 

there ; 
For Manda felt timid to be there alone, 
With Doctor and Sam and the "Missis" all 

gone; 
She softly crept up to the bedroom and said, 



3 CfrflD of Lotie 57 

"I'm willin' to do what I kin," as she spread 
The covers more smoothly and straightened 

the while, 
The shades so that each was the same. A 

smile, 
A nod, with a "Thank you," like magic erased 
The fear from Aunt Manda, as she stood and 

faced 
Chlorice. "And I'm sure I'd be pleased to," 

said she, 
"Whatever ye want ye kin jist call on me." 
"I thank you, Aunt Manda ; I'll try not impose 
Upon you ;" and women of culture are those 
Who recognize everyone's rights — bear in mind 
Their welfare, and willing to help all mankind. 
Remember, that gems in their unpolished state, 
Unpolished on surface have hearts innate, 
And many a gem is cast on the tide, 
Through failure to see to its innermost side. 
And Manda wished she could always have care 
Of Madam Chlorice — just her presence there 
Enlightened her heart and the house and the 

room, 
And she feared, ah ! too quickly the flame would 

consume 
The oil — then a darkness, a longing would 

follow, 
Making her heart and all Kenwood feel hollow. 



58 3 CftflD of ILotie 

And just in an instant, no longer it seemed 
To Manda, and Sam had returned. His face 

beamed, 
As proudly he drove the high-spirited team ; 
The care of these horses was Sam's highest 

dream. 
'Twas noon by the time he had fed them their 

grain 
And put on their blankets, rebraiding the mane 
And tail of black Brixon, when Mlanda an- 
nounced 
That luncheon was ready, and Manda's pro- 
nounced, 
Methodical ways were well known, so he knew 
That Tab's mane and tail must hang loose. 

The cat's mew 
Brought milk to her dish in the corner. For 

work 
Was better to measure than do with a jerk: 
A method resembled the spring of a clock, 
To Manda a thing beneficial to mock. 
At four she prepared for Chlorice some hot 

tea; 
"No new-fangled way for Aunt Manda," 

thought she, 
"Though August — who wants in their tea a 

sour slice 
Of lemon to mingle with pieces of ice?" 
"I left a few leaves in yer cup so I kin 
Amuse ye by tellin' ye what hasn't been, 



3 CirilD oC ILoue 59 

So turn yer cup over and turn it around 
And wish, and I'll see what there is to be found, 
But don't let me know what yer wishin'." 

Chlorice 
Half closed her blue eyes as she wished for 

peace 
Of mind — that no matter how thorny the path, 
She might find reward in the aftermath. 
Then Manda began after much hesitation, 
"Yer goin' to hear from a distant relation, 
He's goin' to write ye a letter and tell 
Ye somethin' ye'll hear long before. — Well ! 

Well ! 
I see ye as plain in a flower-bed — look here, 
Yer right in the center — that's good luck, my 

dear; 
Somebody has placed on yer head a sweet 

wreath, 
And made all around ye a rose-bed beneath. 
But ye don't seem to know it is there — that 

is strange — 
I see lots of tears for awhile, but a change 
Will come for the best, for see here — I can see 
Ye sleepin' — and smiles where the tears used 

to be. 
That's all I kin see there to-day, but I'll tell 
Ye somethin' to-morrow, if everything's well, 
But now I must go — -try to sleep if ye kin," 
And Manda's face beamed from her kind heart 

within. 



60 a C&ilD of Lotie 



XII 

"The sun is always shining, 

If we are in its rays ; 
It knows no touch of darkness, 

No night-divided days. 

"We see it rise so brightly, 

And watch its daily flight; 
It's always bringing morning, 

Or somewhere leaving night. 

"Ah! could our spirit flitter 
Before its magic blaze, 
To greet the dawning brightness 
It throws to meet our gaze! 

"Though mountain peaks might hide it, 
That stand against the sky, 

The blazing light behind them 
Will tell its presence nigh. 

"Though heaven with clouds is laden, 

It tints them with its fire, 
Until they melt before it, 

Like night as dawn creeps higher." 



3 Cijiltj of Lotie 6i 

The doctor he listened when first he awoke; 
He thought earth to heaven and heaven to 

earth spoke, 
And following' closer its source, he discovered 
The sweet waves of song from the garden un- 
covered : 
Chlorice, seeking strength from the morning's 

light shower, 
And singing an ode to the sun, in a bower 
Of roses that blended their perfume to float 
To heaven with the song, as it left her white 

throat. 
Then noiselessly dressing, he slipped to her 

side, 
Before the song's echo to heaven had died, 
And the glory of the morning had no charm for 

him there, 
Above the loose waves of her golden hair; 
No blue shone to earth from the heavenly skies, 
Unless it reflected to him through her eyes, 
And the pink from her cheek caught a rose- 
tinted flame, 
That seemed to reflect to the roses their claim. 
He clasped her — a kiss on her lips madly 

pressed, 
And neither could speak in this stolen caress ; 
The look in his eyes cast a hypnotic spell, 
That fastened the lips and the eyes as well. 



m a CfrilD of Hotie 

And their veins seemed united, when all the 

strength left 
Her weakened — him strengthened — to him 

when it crept, 
And, leaving bereft of her power to resist, 
It made him more helpless than her to desist. 
His breath burnt to crimson her pink-tinted 

cheek ; 
All blood in her body, her face seemed to seek ; 
She staggered — her eyes lost their power to see, 
So thrilled — overpowered by love's! wild ecstasy. 
Her breath slipped away 1 from her — then a mad 

fear 
Leaped into her heart, as he held her so near, 
And with a mad struggle, his arms from her 

brushed, 
Then crying hysterically — back to them rushed, 
To seek their protection — his arms that could 

shield, 
Though beg her the while to their wooing yield. 
"No, no," she convulsively cried, and he 

smoothed 
Her loose-fallen hair, while he petted and 

soothed 
And nestled her closer — had streams crept so 

near, 
Their passionate waters, all heedless of fear, 
Would have rushed to each other, uniting as 

one, 



3 Cf)iID of Hone 63 

Forever, as when their sweet union begun; 
E'en though in their course they should branch 

off again, 
Each stream the sweet waters of both would 

contain. 
He said, "There — my sweetheart — don't fear 

me, Chlorice; 
You're mine — all mine — I shall never release 
My arms that enfold you to me, my own ; 
You're mine, as the soil claims the seed to it 

blown ; 
From now! and forever, in body or mind, 
My arms will caress you, forever to bind 
Your soul unto mine, to my soul never lost; 
I vow with these kisses, regardless of cost, 
To love you — to have you — all mine, all mine !" 
"I must go — see ! Aunt Manda — she stands at 

the gate; 
'Tis breakfast time, come — we must not make 

her wait ; 
She fails to behold us ; this garden bower 
Protects us from view with its vines and flower. 
Oh, see! — e'en the streams from the morning 

sun 
Fail to reveal to its eyes anyone." 
"Sweetheart, the vines and the flowers are blest, 
Having my angel seek them for rest ; 
When you are within there's a greater light 

shines 



a CfiilO of JLotoe 



From under the bower than above its vines. 
Ah! were I a sunflower — I fear this, 
I'd turn to your eyes from the sun for bliss. 
Ah ! were I the ocean or great universe, 
The mighty or good or everything worse, 
The little molehill or the mighty peak, 
Whatever there is — the strong or the weak, 
Ah! were I their king — I would forfeit my 

power 
To sit by your side in this rose-covered bower." 
And; they wound their way through the winding 

walks, 
Where the sweet flowers smiled — their support- 
ing stalks, 
Indulging their buds to respond with a nod, 
To greet the first rays of their life-giving God. 

The glory of dawn only ushers in noon, 
And then on to eventide, ah ! all too soon, 
But only to take the sweet sunshine away, 
That we might behold it again the next day. 
The blossoms of nature are beaten to earth, 
Their short-lived existence is measured by 

worth, 
They herald the oncoming fruit — then they're 

gone ; 
And then comes the rainfall to nourish it on. 
There's never a joy springs to life, but first, 
A blossom announces its heavenly burst ; 



3 CtjfUj ot Hone 65 

There's never a growing to future gain, 
Unless it is nourished by tears for rain, 
And to feel the height of a full-blown rose 
Is all that heaven to earth bestows ; 
And too much dark or too much light 
Will rob us of our priceless sight. 

And the morning to noon and to afternoon 

crept ; 
Chlorice in her solitude bitterly wept ; 
She walked on the threshold of heaven, and 

then 
Met failure to enter — was snatched back again. 
She lived the kiss over each hour in the day; 
She felt his warm breath on her cheek the while 

stay, 
And the hours dividing seemed ages compared 
To the hour by his side, while his love she had 

shared. 
And the joy of the present was dimmed by the 

thought 
That bars stood between her and heaven she 

sought, 
Allowing a view in the space there between; 
Far better all bars than the space to be seen, 
For through it the heavenly love was reflected, 
And thrown to her heart, but its touch was re- 
jected. | 
And as the sweet musk sends an odor — oh, then, 



66 a C6ilD of JLoUe 

His presence remained till his coming again. 

'Twas night — when the blinds of the homes are 
all drawn, 

When, Nature is garbed by the darkness 
brought on, 

That all might seek shelter, retracing the track 

They trodj through the day like a ball bounding 
back. 

To the fire in the grate when the evening is 
chiU, 

Surrounded by loved ones — if this fails to fill 

Our hearts with contentment — there's some- 
thing we miss — 

Our hearts ever searching to bring it to this. 

There's never a pleasure unless we must share 

The pleasure with loved ones, we're one of a 
pair; 

There's never a thing in itself made com- 
plete^ — 

To give and receive and to equally mete 

Is finding the key to our innermost selves, 

That measures us joy from God's joy-laden 
shelves. 

'Twas night — night at Kenwood; the mighty 
world shrank 

To two — then was mighty — all else left a 
blank ; 

They envied the hours as they slipped by them, 
then, 



3 CirilB of Lotie 07 

Wished they could live them all over again. 
Each kiss left an ethereal, newly-born feeling, 
That bounded from one to the other stealing; 
They tried to discover the innermost source, 
That yielded the kisses to them in their course, 
But failed to unfathom their endless supply, 
For one leaped to birth in the last one's death 

sigh. 
Each kiss soared to heaven like? an angel's face, 
That lighted the heaven through its endless 

space ; i 

They flowed like a circle, whose retracing pen 
Ne'er knows where to stop or begin again. 
And each good-night kiss seemed unfinished, 

although 
Each one knew that kisses could never bestow 
To them one more thrill — there was nothing 

they missed, 
But something they longed for to find as they 

kissed. 
"But oh ! this is madness, the gate stands aj ar ! 
We neither should enter the pathway too far; 
Chlorice, 'tis the love running riot," he said, 
"That burns in our hearts ; come, dear, rest 

your sweet head i 
Close, close to my breast — come, dear, sit by 

my side ; 
Let us dream of our love as it floats down the 

tide 



68 3 Cj)iID of Lotie 

Of life : see ! you stand all in white, oh, so pure ; 
But yonder is something attempting to lure. 
See ! see ! now it beckons, — 'tis calling you, 

dear, 
And now you are frightened; you tremble in 

fear. 
Ah ! now, now it watches your uplifted face ; 
It touches with sadness — some lines, leaves no 

trace ! 
And now, — see how strangely your smiles melt 

away! 
A mournfulness hovers ; each line must obey 
Its magical touch. See ! it smiles all the while 
To eyes that it tinges with sorrow! Why 

smile, 
To chisel such sadness, far deeper than face? 
Why smile to mould tears that no smile could 

erase? 
See ! see, you are kneeling in prayer, your 

head bowed ; 
Behold! a soft light, streaming down through 

a cloud, 
Revealing to you from the heavens above, 
A sweet baby-face — 'tis a child of love. 
Oh ! see how your hungry arms lift to the skies ! 
See! see! how its baby-face brightens your 

eyes !" 
And oh, if the vision appeared to her then, 
It shone from his eyes to her eyes — back again 



3 CfrHD of Lotie 69 

Like soft streams of sunshine, whose rays 

magnify, 
When creeping to darkness through curtains 

pushed by. 
Her face seemed illumined; a heavenly light 
Shone out from her soul like an angel's flight, 
Warming to birth all it fell upon, 
And wielding from night a most glorious dawn. 
"Chlorice, come, my sweetheart, 'tis time to 

retire, 
The fire's burning low in the grate ; my desire 
To linger here longer, for your sake must 

yield; 
Your sleepy eyes, dear, must by slumber be 

healed. 
Sweet dreams to you, dear, of our love, divine! 
Oh, God! were the child of love, yours and 

mine! 
Should God hear our calling, oh, would He 

condemn 
Our hearts that are starving? or grant this 

boon them." 



to 3 CftilD of &otie 

xni 

And as life goes along in its e'erlasting way, 
Their lives went along from day to day; 
She had much to bear, for she now was alone, 
Bereft of her husband, who madly was thrown 
And killed from the horse he was riding. Her 

mother 
And sisters seemed all she had left, and no 

other 
Could ever replace the same love each one 

offered 
Or ever unwind the great love each one 

proffered. 
The winter, it passed in its dreary way, 
And spring rolled around once again with its 

lay 
Of spring-time's real music, which never fails 
To sing its sweet song, as Time onward sails. 
Kenwood was just bursting forth into bloom, 
Deserted each winter, it now cast the gloom 
Away like the sun melts the fog that falls low, 
Consuming the mist by its gleaming glow. 
Sam had been raking for weeks to prepare 
The gardens for summer ; and Manda was there 
To brighten the house from its winter's sleep, 
To open the shutters that sunshine might peep, 
To chase out the shadows of Kenwood it found 
Had crept to its corners in absence of sound. 



g CirilD of Lotie 71 

But for over a week its great walls had re- 
sounded 

With chatter and laughter, that danced and re- 
bounded 

From attic to cellar. The long dreary time 

From autumn to spring made the summer-time 
rhyme 

Seem greater than ever — as forces restrained 

Rebound with more power when their freedom 
is gained. 

But something was missing to Doctor De Clue ; 

The light of the sun never seemed to shine 
through 

The mist of his heart since Chlorice had been 
there ; 

Since Kenwood had sheltered her, oh, such a 
tear 

Of loneliness haunted him; all through the 
day 

He longed for her, and through the night the 
same way. 

The whole world in bloom seemed a desert com- 
pared 

To one barren spot, if her presence he shared. 

And now he must watch; her aceouchment was 
near, 

— Must sacrifice all to protect her — to hear 

The first baby cry of his own stirred his heart 

To madness ! — If only he could so impart 



72 a eSflS of Lotie 

The sweet words to her as she suffered for 

him — 
"It is mine ! — it is ours ! — " no shadow could 

dim 
The great ray of light that her soul flashed to 

him. 
Each day he would send her a bouquet of 

flowers ; 
It brightened her heart through the waiting 

hours ; 
And often at night he would walk past her 

home, 
His heart, so bewildered, sought comfort to 

roam, ' 

If just to be near her, and feel the same air 
He breathed might have floated from her to him 

there. 
And he wandered and wandered in body and 

soul, 
Both knowing, yet daring not seek his heart's 

goal. 
He felt the protector of both — oh, to share 
Her love — with the baby now under her care ! 
He watched for the time when her illness would 

bring 
His sweetheart to him — just to feel one slight 

cling 
To him for protection meant much to him then, 
If he could enlighten her suffering. 



3 CftflD of Lotie 73 

Men 
Are helpful to women, when suffering is tense, 
When woman's strength wanes, then man lends 

in defense; 
He seems to withhold until then a reserve 
For her to replenish her fast-ebbing nerve. 
And when June ushered in its most glorious 

days, 
Betwixt and between — long before the sun's 

rays 
Announce it is summer — yet after they bring 
A balmy perfume, that must follow spring, 
Chlorice sought her room at the hospital, where 
She first met the doctor, and now she was there 
Again in his care — yet so different now; 
How long years of longing and wanting will 

bow 
The heart to submission to give up the quest 
In search of the love that brings hopeless un- 
rest ! 
She lived the years over from then until now ; 
She dreamed of the time when he first stroked 

her brow, 
And held her white hand while he lovingly 

gazed 
Upon her flushed face when her thoughts were 

so dazed. 
She dreamed it again, then a song she once 

heard, 



7^ 3 Ci)ilD of &otie 

Leaped up to her throat, and the song to voice 

stirred : — 
"His eyes gazed in mine, and I feared mine 

would say 
To him all my thoughts that I had that day ; 
My eyes drooped to hide, but a blush then arose 
And spoke to him still,, though my eyes 

drooped to close; 
My hands he then clasped and I tried to conceal 
What my eyes and my blush had begun to re- 
veal, 
But my fast-beating pulse continued to tell 
Of the love I thought hidden within my heart 

well. 
A kiss on my lips he then gently pressed, 
And my secret I held was then by him guessed, 
And the silence seemed sweet to us both that 

day; 
'Tis love that makes heaven on earth — let us 

say, 
And when there is love — all night turns to day." 
She sang the song over and over again ; 
It seemed to respond to a note she felt then, 
And softly she changed the sweet tune and the 

key, 
And sang this sweet song in her love's reverie: 
"To kiss you, ah! should I this moment know 

this, 



3 CtrilD of Lotie 75 

That death would be mine for that last hour of 

bliss, 
I would sweetly recline in your arms' gentle 

clasp, 
And would bask in the death that held me in its 

grasp ; 
I would give you my lips in that last hour of 

bliss, 
To sip all their sweetness they held in their 

kiss, 
And would die in a heaven, though on earth it 

would be, 
That would pay for a heaven of eternity." 
The doctor had listened ; each word as it fell, 
Had reached to his heart. "Is my sweetheart 

well?" 
He said as he sat down beside her. 

"Oh, yes, 
But my thoughts wandered far away, I must 

confess, 
Retraced the long path I have trod — and my 

song 
Leaped up from the past — from the memories 

long, 
Leaped up from the flowers that had withered 

and died, 
Their fumes from the leaves of their memories 

sighed. 



And if any grief lingered, it lingered beneath 

The scent of the flowers, and was crowned with 
their wreath, 

And my thoughts tried uncover, in quest of re- 
gret, 

But the more they researched, by more perfume 
were met, 

Until they were lost in a heaven of scent, 

And slept in a reverie its memory lent. 

But the perfume still lingers — for every flower's 
death, 

Another awaits to inhale its last breath, 

And the rose-covered sorrows, though great 
be their mound, 

Are mighty when sorrows with roses are found. 

The heart that has suffered for love, only 
grows 

To greatness through sorrow — for sorrow be- 
stows 

A wreath, until then, that the heart never 
knows." 

But the doctor was worried — Chlorice near the 
veil 

That marks the division of life; — on the scale 

Whose weights hold the balance, and one is 
called Death, 

The other is Life — and existence is Breath, 

That sometimes takes flight like a flash, and 
then, 



a eftiia ot note 77 

Never re-enters the body again. 
He patiently waited: the morn crept to night, 
He counted the hours on their tardy flight, 
And great the suspense while the balance hung ; 
No trace of a quiver as the weights firmly clung. 
But soon they began in their battle for life; 
They swayed back and forth in their mighty 

strife, 
And the measure of Life added more to its 

weight 
From Love as it coated its depths innate. 
— And the battle extended to dawn's first light, 
And then a sweet babe sprang to earth in its 

flight. 
And with its first cry, shouted, "I am Love, 
And burst to existence from heaven above, 
And the law of God is greater than 
The law on earth, that's made by man." 



XIV 

The weeks passed away — each week on as be- 
fore; 

Each week found the chain on her neck that she 
wore; 

Its tiny gold heart heard her heart's beats each 
day, 



78 a CfrilD of ILotoe 

And she list in turn to hear its dear heart 

say 
Its wild words of love — and her heart whispered 

low, 
"I love — oh, how useless to say 'Nay, not so.' " 
She watched his hair streak with the first hairs 

of gray, 
And loved him more still as the white hairs held 

sway. 
But oh ! such a longing — her heart ever crying 
For him; though it beat — it was day by day 

dying. 
Her babe, as it grew, seemed to her more en- 
deared ; 
She watched every breath for its welfare — she 

feared 
Some sickness might rob her — were she so bereft 
Of all — all that brightened the heart she had 

left, 
How could she exist ! — thus she thought — and 

a flutter 
Leaped up in her heart, beating fear it failed 

utter. 
And then she considered, how happy — how 

blest, 
If only the babe was her hungry heart's quest ; 
To rob her of everything else, and to leave 
Her babe — this alone was enough to receive; 
And she crooned a song to its sleeping ears, 



3 C!)iID of Lotie 79 

And this is the song that absorbed all her 
tears : 

"Go to sleep, little one, while mother sings 
Of all the joy that your little self brings; 
Close your soft eyes so the sun can't reflect 
Sunshine to waken you, while I protect. 

"Rock-a-bye, baby, mother's dear, 
Sleep in my arms that hold you near, 
Rest near my heart ; let my heart within 
Beat to the end what your love made begin. 

"Oh, such a love has awakened my heart, 
Never to sleep again, since you are part, 
Tiny — though tiny — your love wraps 

around 
The world great and mighty, there, you 

can be found. 

"Rock-a-bye, baby, asleep or awake, 
Your mother is near and will never for- 
sake; 
Sleep, baby, sleep in the bed of my heart, 
List to the song that you hear it impart." 

But joy is for all, but the great wheel of Time 
Turns slowly, and each one must wait for the 
chime 



so 3 CfrilD of Lotie 

That rings to distribute our blessings and 

share, 
And sometimes we watch ere the spoke of joy's 

there. 
But great are the spokes that revolve in this 

wheel, 
And blessed should we be, when we list to the 

peal 
Announcing to us we are counted there, 
Reaping with others all blessings we share. 

When baby was three, then the mighty chain 
That bound them in heaven was gilded again 
By the tie of man — but the strength was the 

same, 
No stronger — yet bronzed for the earthly gaze, 
To move with the laws of the earthly ways. 
And Chlorice was the vine — and Doctor De 

Clue 
The tree that enfolded the vine when it grew, 
And the babe was the blossom that burst to 

bloom 
From the vine that entwined for the tree to con- 
sume, i 



4 ,1912 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724) 779-2111 



& 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



JAN 



4 \9A2 



